


The Sex Game

by KimberlyAlexis



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Post-Season/Series 04, Virgin!Sherlock, virginity is a social construct tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimberlyAlexis/pseuds/KimberlyAlexis
Summary: Sherlock decides he needs to have sex and asks for John’s help in finding the right man. John tries to figure out why this is all so disconcerting.





	1. Chapter 1

"Who would have sex with me?"

John looked up from his paper and blinked a few times. A world of thoughts swirling in his head when he realised Rosie might've heard so he turned her way.

"She's deep into Peppa Pig," Sherlock assured him. Sure enough sat on the sofa Rosie had on her big girl headphones (the ones with the pink kitties and kid safe volume) listening to what John assumed was indeed Peppa Pig as Rosie took that moment to say "piggy piggy" with glee.

Which left him to turn back to Sherlock. And answer. That question he asked. About sex. And was it suddenly a million degrees in there and no one was noticing but him?

John stared at Sherlock and thought perhaps this was all a dream. But no the younger man was indeed sat across from John, peering down at his phone and swiping left every few seconds.

"Um...what?" John said then wondered when his voice got that high. Did he always sound like someone was standing on his windpipe?

At this Sherlock looked up and John could swear he smirked.

“Oh I don’t mean you. I’m well aware of your often shouted orientation. I meant well-“ At this Sherlock stood up and thrust his phone in John’s direction. John took it in hand, congratulated himself on still being sane enough to do so then looked at the screen.

Sherlock was on Grindr.

John saw in front of him a man without a shirt on with a variety of emoji symbols in his bio and a few short words ‘Verse top. Westminster. You host.‘

John stared, unsure of what to do. Sherlock was looking for dates or well....fuck buddies is more like it and he was looking local. If he’s considering this man then it means he’s okay with hosting as well. Which meant he’d be bringing the men back here to their Baker Street home. Well not really John’s home anymore. After all despite all the items they had at Baker and the many nights slept there him and Rosie still had their own place. Whether through stubbornness or confusion John convinced himself that it made more sense to maintain that residence than to move back in with Sherlock. Which was good as apparently Sherlock had plans to parade men through here. Men with bee and needle emojis in their profile even. Wait....needle?

  
“Oh don’t swipe right on him,” Sherlock leaned over John’s shoulder to inspect what he saw.

“I-I wasn’t. I—“

“He’s likely a drug user. There’s all kinds of code. I’ve gleaned most of it though there’s a few confounding symbols. That one seems fairly clear though. Either way I’m not interested in hosting.”

“Thank fuck for that!” John gave a shout of relief. Then looked over at Rosie again. She didn’t hear that either. He looked back at Sherlock who wore a perplexed look on his face. “I-I just mean you never know who is using these kind of apps.”

“Like me?” Sherlock said raising an eyebrow.

John shook his head. He was still confused. He wasn’t being asked to fuck his best friend, but his best friend just came out to him in a pretty spectacular way. After years of wondering about what Sherlock got up to with Irene Adler and if those stories Janine spun were true he finally at least knew if Sherlock liked sex. Apparently yes and enough to do it with a total stranger. Not that John knew the life story of every woman he’d slept with. And when did he become so puritanical?

“No-no I mean...sorry. I’m just a bit....”

“Yes, I can see that. You have questions? Well go on then. That episode has about 12 minutes left in it.”

John’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “HOW do you know that?”

“When you’re away I watch it with her of course.”

“Oh,” John said. His mind filling with images of Rosie and Sherlock watching Peppa Pig together, waiting for John to come home. He couldn’t help but smile. The man he once felt was all ice was the man who would watch a cartoon with his child and remember the run time as well.

“11 minutes now.”

“Right. Well um first off. Um. You um. Well. Um. I uh. Hmm. So?”

Sherlock bit his lip, nodded his head side to side. Eyes upwards and around. Then spoke.

“Nope. Even my genius can’t figure that one out.”

“Sorry,” John laughed, coughed. “I’m just a bit....thrown if I’m honest. I didn’t think you did this sort of thing.”

“I don’t. At least I never have before now. But it’s something that feels necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve yet to explore sexual relations and now I feel I should.”

John shook his head, immediately moving from shocked friend to concerned friend. That wasn’t right. Sherlock shouldn’t feel like he’s ticking a box before doing something like this, especially considering how late he left it.

“Sherlock, that’s not....If you don’t want to then you shouldn’t do it.”

“Oh it’s not like I’m being pressured from anyone. I just personally feel it’s something I’d like to try at least once.”

“Just the once?”

“I suppose we’ll see.”

“Okay,” John had to go slowly here. He didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing for many reasons including Sherlock’s own stubbornness. The man could dig in on something for no reason other than to do it. After all there was absolutely no reason they needed to watch the Overton Garden’s security guard just to prove he didn’t murder the curator. But Lestrade said it was a waste and so Sherlock was determined to prove it was a valuable outing. It wasn’t. He never said so, but John knew. John cleared his throat. “It’s just with first...times you usually want someone special.”

“Perhaps after the school dance? Really John? Was your first time ....special?”

John thought back to his first time. He was a terribly shy and quiet kid. He could take care of himself, but he was happier on his own. It wasn’t his plan to attend the dance actually but Harry asked Rebecca on John’s behalf. With Rebecca Lanning being one of the prettiest girls in school he couldn’t really believe it and of course agreed to go. That night they’d left the dance early and snuck into the theater. In the bathroom stall before the animated film about a bear he had sex for the first time and no, it wasn’t special. Not at all. But it was memorable. And he was young and stupid. Sherlock should have the benefit of his stupidity at least.

“No, you’re right. It wasn’t. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish it was. I mean at that age you’re just trying to find something to stick it in really. As crude as that is. But you’re older and you should be with someone you care about. You should enjoy it, Sherlock.”

“So you’re saying...what?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying. I just don’t want you to do anything you regret.”

At this Sherlock looked into his eyes. “I have but one regret in this life, John.”

Suddenly John’s throat was tight and he knew exactly what Sherlock meant. Or what he thought he meant. He gave a nod.

Sherlock stood and plucked his phone from John’s hands. John’s grip loosening and he took a moment to wriggle his fingers after realising how tight he’d been holding it.

“So,” Sherlock began then pocketed his phone. “I suppose this means I’ll have to date. God what a horror.”

“Wait. What?”

“You said someone special. If I can’t just swipe right on a nice set of abs and a great smile then I’ll need to go out and find someone.”

“I suppose that-“

“You’ll be my wing man then?”

“Wh-what?”

“It’s when you help your friend find a place to land. The phrase originated from birds I believe.”

“I don’t think that’s righ-“

“It’s a joke, John. Lighten up.”

John did the opposite of that. He started to imagine what it would be like to be Sherlock’s wingman. A crowded club full of men hitting on him because of course they would. Him standing there feeling old and out of shape.

Sherlock stood pecking away at his phone as John continued the day dream.

Sherlock would probably be leaned up against the bar with him for a minute before a man without a shirt on, because of course he wouldn’t wear one, came to chat him up. He’d have long blonde hair, abs that John couldn’t hope to achieve if he lived in the gym. Plus a nice smile. Maybe he’d even be from somewhere foreign and have a nice accent. He’d smile, Sherlock would talk to him and....right. Sherlock would talk to him. Most people were idiots to Sherlock so that would end that. John smiled then giggled. This would be okay. He wouldn’t have to worry about this after all and he could work on WHY he was so worried about this later. For now he was okay.

“Perfect,” Sherlock said looking up finally. “Lestrade nor my brother have anything on. This is a historically slow period for crime and Mrs. Hudson said she can take Rosie tonight.”

“Wh-What’s happening?” John asked.

“John, we are going to a club to meet ‘someone special’ therefore the sex game...is on.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You know I don’t even remember buying these clothes!” John shouted from the sitting room back towards Sherlock’s room. No response, but that didn’t mean Sherlock didn’t hear him. “I mean I must’ve done. They fit. I just have no recollection at all!” Still no response. Sherlock was taking his time.

After Sherlock made his declaration he helped John gather Rosie’s things then they headed downstairs to Mrs. Hudson’s.

“Rosie and me have a movie marathon planned.” Mrs. Hudson patted John’s shoulder as he steeered him towards the door. “So just come back to us in the morning bright eyed and bushy tailed!”

At this Rosie gave a giggle and said bye to her daddy and Sherlock. Before John could turn around Sherlock had sprinted up the stairs to 221B. John gave a curious look then turned back to Mrs. H.

“Well. Thank you again. You’re a lifesaver. I didn’t know about this otherwise I’d have tried to get a minder in. Don’t want to impose too much ya know.”

“John,” Mrs. Hudson said quietly and firmly. “You are family. There is never an imposition.”

John gave a nod as his throat tightened. Mrs. Hudson gave a small nod in return then turned back to Rosie who was already enjoying playing in the small basket of yarn she so loved.

“Oh Rosie you’re in the spaghetti again!” Rosie giggled.

John smiled and took that moment to exit and head back upstairs. He was sure Sherlock would be there ready to go. After all the man seemed gun ho on this idea. But instead he found the sitting room empty, Sherlock’s door closed, and the sounds of a soft, almost sensual, violin filling the air.

That was over half an hour ago. John had gone upstairs to find clothes worthy of a night out and indeed found in his closet a nice shirt and slacks. So he showered and got dressed. All the while he was trying to avoid thinking about Sherlock pulling tonight. He didn’t think he would—as picky as the man was, but what if? What if?

What if in the moment Sherlock decided to not wait. What if he did meet a nice, charming man? What if a genius in a nice suit came in a swept Sherlock off his feet?

John sat down on his chair. He had to give this whole situation a good think. If Sherlock wanted a relationship with someone then wold John be okay with that? A traitorous voice in his mind said “no.” And he didn’t know why. It’s not like he owns the man. Sherlock was free to do whatever he wanted, but if John is being honest with himself then he doesn’t like the idea of anyone doing it with him. At least anyone, but him. _Which is fucked up, John Watson._  He knew that. He knew it wasn’t okay. Why would he want to keep his friend from something he himself in this very room shouted at the man for ignoring. A relationship, something more. Or just even Sex. Sherlock deserved to be more than just a machine, a puzzle solver. If the man was looking for something more out of life then John had to support him.

John stood. Running his hand through his hair he looked over at the mirror and tried to make himself look determined. Maybe the feeling would follow. He’d reverted to his hair from a few years back, having realised that the new style he’d tried on was all part of him trying to be something that he absolutely wasn’t. Who was he now? He shook his head not ready to get into all that right now.

He took his phone from his pocket to check the time and a small piece of paper fell out. He bent down to pick it up only to find it was a price tag for the jeans he was wearing. And looking at the price tag... No, he couldn’t have ever bought these jeans. Which means....

He walked from the sitting room, down the hall, and gave a knock on Sherlock’s door before he eased it open.

“Sherlock , um-“ John stopped upon seeing the man. Sherlock’s hair was slightly slicked back. He’d donned slightly tighter than usual trousers and the shirt...well. John wriggled his nose and tried to find words. It’d been a while.

“Almost ready,” Sherlock said. He was tucking in the auburgine shirt into his trousers.

“Mm.” John said and tried to seem nonchalant. He stepped fully in the room and gave a look around. He actually wasn’t often in Sherlock’s bedroom. During Sherlock’s recouperation from the gun shot Sherlock mostly remained in the sitting room, preferring the couch to his actual bed. John just went with it, though he always wondered why the man felt the need to be less comfortable with a hole in his chest already. Sherlock’s room was neat with the bed made.

The small lamp was angled towards the bed and John couldn’t help but follow the line of sight it seemed to point at in the trash. Upon seeing the contents his eyes blurred, his lungs seized, and all the blood in his body seemed to rush away from his brain.

In the trash was a small box with the word three words printed in cursive font.

 

“TRAVEL BUTT PLUG”


	3. Chapter 3

There was no way to know where the contents of the box were, but John couldn’t focus on anything else but where it might be. So when Sherlock picked up his phone, opened the door, guided John outside and downstairs to the car John mentally added ‘with a butt plug in’ to every noted action.

They both were quiet. John finally looked over to see Sherlock tapping on his phone ‘with a butt plug in’ and noticed Sherlock was still on Grindr ‘with a butt plug in’, except he was no longer clicking through photos, rather he was typing to someone.

John cleared his throat. “Something on?” He asked. It was the best he could come up with in the moment. Sherlock didn’t glance up, but did finally speak just one word.

“Perhaps.”

‘Perhaps he says’ John thought then supplied ‘with a butt plug in.’

Is that what took him so long to get ready earlier? He’d taken a shower then went to his room, laid on his bed with a bit of lube and then...got himself ready to slide it in?

John’s lungs and vision stopped working again. And this time the blood rushed away from his brain and found exactly where it wanted to go. He shifted in his seat, adjusted himself, and vowed to look out the window. He’d focus on anything but what Sherlock did with the butt plug.

Then Sherlock spoke.  “I’m wearing it.”

“I-I,” John stammered then added. “What um are you talking abou-“

“You obviously saw the box and you’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“That’s not...it’s not... I’ve not—“

“Then you noticed when we left that I told the driver to drive around until you began breathing normal again?”

“What?! What do you—?” John shouted and waited for Sherlock to explain further. Instead Sherlock finally looked up and tilted his head towards the front of the car.

John leaned forward and tapped on the partition. The partition lowered and the driver, an older male with greying sides, gave a smile.

“Are you feeling better now, sir? Should we continue on?”

John’s eyebrows knit together in confusion towards the mirror.

“Of course I don’t mind driving around in a loop for a bit more if you need.”

John looked out the window and realised he had seen those buildings a few times tonight. And that couple sat outside the restaurant. God they’d been in the car for at least an hour and he hadn’t noticed. He’d barely even registered the darkening sky.

“Yes, please, uh drive on,” He sheepishly said then pressed the button to lift the partition.

When he sat back he turned to see Sherlock with a lifted eyebrow.

“Sorry,” John said looking down. He took a breath and tried to find something to say that didn’t sound absolutely wrong-footed. “I’m just uh....just trying to get used to this new part of you.”

Sherlock looked away from John and out the window. “Me too,” he said. “It’s not something I ever saw for myself, but I suppose in for a penny-“

  
“You don’t have to do this ya know. And definitely not tonight.”

“I don’t plan on doing anything tonight.”

“Yeah that’s why you have a-a-“ John stopped. He couldn’t say it. “THAT shoved up your arse.”

“I’m simply getting used to the feel of something there. I don’t want to seem....naive about it all.” Sherlock looked from the window and tapped his fingers on his knee. A breath rushed out from him.

He was nervous and John had been so caught up in his own bullshit to notice.

John softened his tone, leaned his shoulder into Sherlock’s for a gentle push to let him know John was there. “Hey look. No ones good at this out of the gate, Sherlock.”

“I know that,” Sherlock said quickly. “I do. But at my age I should at least be adequate.”

“Anyone lucky enough to be with you would find you more than that. Jesus. Just look at you.”

Sherlock looked up at that and smiled at John.

“You look quite good yourself. Glad I decided to buy you those clothes.”

“I knew it!” John gave a shout then a laugh. The tension easing from his shoulders. “No way I’d spend that much on a pair of jeans.”

“I assumed you’d need them eventually. Look at it this way at least you have a nice outfit for when you start dating again.” Sherlock gave a tight smile then looked away.

“Yea,” John said, but in all reality he hadn’t even considered dating again. He imagined what it would be like to get out there again and begin explaining about his life. He was a widow with a beautiful baby girl. But also he had a...a person in his life that he’d no intention of giving up any time soon. At least as long as he had him. Well until whoever....someone with a nice name probably....Armando with the beautiful smile came along and charmed Sherlock. Perhaps Armando would be taken along on cases as well.

The drive continued on with both men looking out the window and a few checks on their respective phones. When the car pulled to a stop John looked up to see a non-descript door and one man stood outside leaned against a wall.

“This uh it?” He asked.

“I believe so.” A second later the driver was opening Sherlock’s door then his. They stepped out and looked at each other then the door. The man leaning against the door stood up then looked down at his phone. He seemed to be checking something, though John was sure no one had given their names. After a second look back at them the man walked to the door and opened it.

Sherlock walked forward then John joined him. As soon as they were inside it seemed Sherlock’s phone buzzed and he picked it up and began typing again.

John looked around at the club. A circular bar in the middle of the room, a variety of tables/booths, a dance floor, and a center stage DJ playing music. It was a standard club save for the fact that everyone inside was male and groomed to the nines. The only other key difference was Sherlock who stopped looking at his phone but instead seemed to be looking around for someone. Was he expecting someone? Armando from the Grindr chat perhaps?

“Oh. There he is, “ Sherlock said.

“Who?”

But then he saw who. Walking towards them in a tight mesh shirt with a look of absolute excitement on his face was their former client Henry Knight.

“Sherlock,” Henry said Sherlock’s name almost sultry. John was just about to ask what he was doing here when the man pitched forward, wrapped his arms around Sherlock, and kissed him.


	4. Chapter 4

  
It wasn’t an exceedingly long kiss. Perhaps no more than three seconds, though in that space of time John took a step forward as if to pull Henry off of Sherlock. But as quick as the kiss began it also ended. Henry pulled back from Sherlock and turned to John. He offered him his hand.

John didn’t want to shake it. He looked at Henry’s hand for a second as his own fist contracted and unfurled.

Sherlock spoke softly, John noticed. Almost as if he thought he might spook him. “John?”

John gave a tight smile then extended a hand to shake Henry’s hand. It was a firm handshake by any standard. The firm grip that John was always taught meant the man on the other end meant business. Though John wasn’t sure he wanted to know which business he meant.

He released Henry’s hand and took a breath, tried to remember a few things. First off was that he didn’t have a right to stop anyone from kissing on Sherlock. He only hoped that no one noticed him almost stepping in and pulling them apart, perhaps adding a punch or two to Henry’s baby face. And second to remind himself that he didn’t actually dislike Henry. Out of all their clients he was probably the most likable.

The man they’d met previously had experienced childhood trauma after witnessing his father’s murder by a savage beast. Only years later did Sherlock prove it wasn’t a large hound, but a mere man with a hidden motive. Henry had paid for their entire trip, their standard fee quadrupled, and even kept in touch from time to time. He sent John and Mary a wedding present, and Rosie a first birthday gift as well. He was a nice gent and really John genuinely had no reason to have any ill will against him.

And yet he had to will himself to not throttle the man.

“So,“ Henry said and he gave a kind smile to both Sherlock and John. “This is it.”

John’s eyebrow arched and Sherlock took notice.

“This place we’re in. The club,” Sherlock said.

“Meeting venue.” Henry corrected.

John could see Sherlock restrain from an eye roll as he continued on.

“Meeting venue. Henry owns it. It’s the most exclusive gay club in England.”

John didn’t really want to know more, but he couldn’t remain too silent. He posed a question. “And why’s that?”

“Well,” Henry began then stopped as if he was trying to find the words to explain it all. Just then in walked Ian McKellan and Richard Armitage. Henry gave a wave to them both and they were on their way. No one went up to them to ask for a photo or even stare. Ian took a table and Richard went to the bar.

“Ahh,” John said. So the rich and famous and people well off were allowed in here. Makes sense of why Sherlock was here then. John thought back to the only time it seemed his head was turned a bit—Irene Adler. Despite all the whipping and what not, the woman was all class with money and elegance clinging to her as tight as any dress she’d wear. So Sherlock doesn’t want a bit of rough really, he wants someone on his level. John wriggled his nose. He was going to have to sit there while Sherlock found someone far smarter than John. Maybe he’d already found it in Henry Knight and John couldn’t do a damn thing about it because....because. “I need a drink.,” John said.

“Of course. This way.” Henry lead them through the club pointing out a few details about where certain wall art—all homosexual in nature—came from. John heard him say he commissioned a few and others he’d purchased. He pointed out in particular a few pieces by an artist called Lyendecker and another by Michael Vicin. Once they’d made it passed the art and John’d eavesdropped on Richard Armitage saying, ‘I just miss him’ he saw they were near the corner of the room. Drinks were on the table though they hadn’t ordered anything as far as John knew. He gave his drink a sniff, realised it was very good scotch and drank it all down in one go. Sherlock gave a sip to his and asked Henry about his girlfriend.

“Wait...what? Girlfriend?” John asked. How did he get the wrong end of what just happened?

“Yes,” Henry said. “Lizzie. She’s great fun, but she’s not my girlfriend, Sherlock. She’s just a sometimes bed mate.”

“Ahh,” Sherlock said, but John could swear his face seemed to indicate he already knew this. Or maybe he just looked bored which was Sherlock’s base look.

“So um,” John tried to ask this without it seeming like he was judging, because he really wasn’t...he was just confused and though he’d spent half the day that way he wasn’t prepared to keep it up for much longer. “Are you um...bi then? I mean its your club and all but uh—”

“Oh yes I’m bi or more accurately pan. I have to thank you for that really.”

John sat up. “Um what do you mean?”

Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Oh, um.” Henry started then seemed to measure his words carefully. “Well...after you all helped me over what I’d been dealing with my entire life I realised a few things. Things like I’d been putting my life on hold, never truly being myself. That meant I needed to let go of as much fear as I could. After all fear had held me back for so long. So I added a few more sessions of therapy. I went away for a while. I realised that fear of acceptance for my sexuality was something I’d been hiding from.”

“Oh,” John said. That definitely made sense. After all Henry could hardly get through to the night before. Once he was able to see the monster for what it was then he could imagine that freed up a lot for Henry. It certainly did for him when the trauma of losing Sherlock eased up a bit. It allowed him to focus on what he needed and how he truly felt. He didn’t get too far down the rabbit hole because Mary came along and helped him ignore the wound , but in Henry’s situation John could imagine a lot more options to truly figure things out. “That’s...that’s really good. I’m happy for you, Henry.”

“Thank you,” Henry said. He took a breath then continued. “So after I realised who I was I also realised there wasn’t a lot of places for me. Lots of clubs are out there, but a lot of them focus too much on certain things that might cause issues for someone with a past of trauma like me. So I went about creating this meeting place. We serve drinks, but also coffees and teas. There’s a reading nook in the back for people who want a safe, quiet place to just be. There is no confusion either. Lots of people visit clubs not knowing who is open or out and who is just there for support or to simply try things on. So I instituted the kiss/handshake policy.”

“Oh...OH!” John said with the reality of what just happened finally dawning on him. “So kiss means—“

“If I kiss you, though typically I do it on the cheek, then you’re out. You’re gay, bi, trans....in the rainbow if you will. And a handshake means you’re straight or just not in the market tonight. People take notice of the greeting. Though some regulars like Richard and Ian are known and no greeting necessary.”

“Very smart,” Sherlock said and he gave a brief smile. Henry’s ears turned a bit red with the compliment.

John wanted to move on, but couldn’t think of a thing to add so he decided to ask the most pressing thing on his mind.

“So are you and Sherlock um,” John cleared his throat. What word fits best to say are you and my best friend planning to have sex and also could you perhaps not do that? “Do you have plans? Should I um...leave?”

Sherlock gave John a curious look but Henry laughed.

“Oh, oh no. Me and Sherlock matched on Grindr a few weeks back and we just got to talking. First about how he knew it was me entirely from a well-croppped photo only showing half a smile then about the fact that you still haven’t—OW!”

John was sure he heard the dull thud of a foot kicking a calf and was about to ask what was that when a man approached their table and leaned towards Sherlock.

The man’s hand was firm on the table and his body twisted toward’s Sherlock who had leaned back to give the man room. This resulted in Sherlock leaning into John who got a sniff of Sherlock’s cologne. John had never been a huge fan of perfume on women, Mary’s scent was never his favourite before the incident and definitely not after, but Sherlock’s cologne was nice and John found himself taking a second deep breath in a matter of seconds.

“Hi,” the man said. His smile was gorgeous and everything John feared. “I’m not going to offer to buy you a drink because if you’re in here then you can more than afford your own, but I would love to buy you a harness.”

“A harness?” Sherlock asked. Henry’s stayed silent as if he’d heard this all before. John took a drink.

“Yes, a beautiful, custom-made leather harness for you to wear and for me to pull you closer to me while I’m fucking you into oblivion.”

John coughed up his drink and tried to stop his eyes from popping out his head. He reached for a napkin on the table and waited for Sherlock to respond. Was it happening now? Is this the man Sherlock will be with?

John bit his tongue by first applying a small bit of pressure with his teeth then with increasing force. He thought back to being in school and those times when there was a test that you failed to study for. Not the surprise quizzes, but the ones you knew were coming and yet you fucked around never cracking open a book until the day of the test when you’re well and truly fucked. You’d see the teacher getting ready to pass out the tests and would will something to happen—a fire alarm to be pulled, a freak snow storm, or a meteor to hit the earth...not big enough to cause damage, just those ‘big enough to get John Watson out of his maths quiz’ sized ones. But those never happened. He didn’t experience one test stopping fire drill, nor a flurry to freeze out the test, and meteors obviously only fell on non-test days. So John thought he was maybe due just one ‘get out your best friend running off to fuck another man’ card. Maybe.

“I—“ Sherlock started then his phone pinged three times in succession as did John’s and oddly enough Henry’s.

They all pulled out there phones to have a look. It was Henry who spoke first, though with obvious confusion.

“Sherlock...your brother says to check in immediately. How does he have my mobile?”

“Same here,” John said while breathing a sigh of relief he hoped would go unnoticed.

“Indeed,” Sherlock confirmed his said the same. He turned to the man. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your kind invitation.” He stood. “Sorry about this, Henry.”

“Another time then?” The man stepped close to Sherlock,crowding him. John tried to bite down on his lip, but couldn’t stop himself this time.

“He’s not interested mate,” John said and placed a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back and ushered him towards the door with a brief wave to Henry.

As they stepped out of the club (meeting venue) into the night air John looked up at the stars, said a silent thankful prayer, then back down as his eyes fell on Sherlock.

“Home?” He asked, hopeful that this night was at an end.

But Sherlock looked at him and John knew that this night was just beginning.

“John,” Sherlock spoke calmly, but his words had an urgent tone. “What do you want?”


End file.
